


Cat Naps

by straylize



Series: Royalty/Retainer AU [7]
Category: Persona 3, Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Fluff, M/M, Royalty/Retainer AU, pegokita
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 17:32:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18370775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/straylize/pseuds/straylize
Summary: [Royalty/Retainer AU]A young retainer in training and the prince he will one day serve—without knowing what the future truly holds, they manage to share idyllic moments with sun-bathed cat naps, flower crowns and stolen kisses.





	Cat Naps

Training to be a retainer for the royal family was hardly anything glamorous; it was anything but, really. Day in and day out, the training was grueling. And Akira Kurusu, he who would one day inherit the title of King’s Retainer and serve the next heir to the throne, Crown Prince Minato Arisato, dealt with that daily training. Some days, that meant learning all of the proper etiquette befitting of a noble. Other days, it was learning every nook and cranny of the royal capital, Arisatia. Other days, it was stealth training, so he could move about and disarm others undetected. There were a great many secrets that were passed on through the Kurusu family over generations; techniques and pathways granted only to them in order to protect the royal family to the best of their ability. There was absolutely always something to learn, and it meant every day was a battle all its own.

On that day, in particular, Akira had been engaged with intense combat training. Armed with proper weaponry that he would use in the heat of battle, against his father—the current royal retainer—in a no holds barred battle. After nearly eight years of combat training, Akira’s skill and aptitude for battle had allowed for his father to never hold back when they fought. It was win or face injury because they had to live by the belief that in a true combat situation, no punches would be pulled. It taught Akira to be cunning and resourceful in a way that most were not at the age of fifteen. However, that also meant that after a successful training session, Akira was nothing short of completely worn out.

He had won his battles, but not without sustaining a few visible bruises and a pesky sprain of the wrist that felt more like an irritating obstacle to him than a true injury to be concerned about. Rather than retire to his room to clean up and get some rest, Akira found himself in the garden. It was always relaxing there; very few visited it despite the fact that it bloomed spectacular flowers of all varieties under the warmth of central Arisatia’s sunlight. It was never too warm, as the breeze that calmed from Garudyne’s winds always cooled the capital city. But more importantly than any of those facts was that there was one person who could usually be found there in the late afternoons—Minato.

The garden was still empty when Akira arrived, and though they hadn’t discussed it prior, he was positive that it was only a matter of time before Minato showed up. There was no need to seek him out, however. There was no need to do anything at all but what he wanted at that moment—to unwind. Akira wasted little time laying in the field of wildflowers that grew there; he stretched out and closed his eyes, electing to take in the sun and enjoy every last moment of peace that he could have. He was fortunate in his training, in that he could at least turn off his dedication to duty for just a bit and be  _ himself _ . According to his father, “Akira the Royal Retainer” and “Akira Kurusu” were two separate people that would eventually have to join into one; he would have to leave behind his identity and sense of self while he served the king, as that duty came first. But Akira hated that concept. More than anything, he hated the idea that he had to become someone else just to protect Minato. Protecting Minato was something he wanted to do, something he sincerely enjoyed, so he saw no need to change he was. It was easier, though, to put on that front for his father and avoid the ire brought about by his rebellion on most days.

But that, too, was exhausting for Akira. It wasn’t in his nature to be that way. He wasn’t the sort to be cold and rigid, to be isolated and unfeeling. He was a warm person, he cared for others, especially Minato, in spades. His reason for being a retainer wasn’t rooted in tradition or obligation to the role he was inheriting—it was simply because Minato was a precious person, someone he wished to protect, someone whose side he wanted to remain by, regardless of where that took him.

The thoughts of these conflicts, the war his father wished for him to have with himself, and his honest desires for his future were thoughts that crept in and out as he lay in the sun. He dozed and drifted, though much like a cat taking an afternoon nap, Akira remained alert and aware of his surroundings. It didn’t slip by him when his lazy train of thought was broken by the quiet sound of footsteps approaching—Minato. Akira didn’t move, his expression didn’t change despite the want to smile; he let Minato believe he was sleeping peacefully in the sun and awaited what he would do next. Without opening his eyes, Akira was easily capable of tracing his every footstep. They stopped just next to him, and he could feel the shifting in the greenery around them as Minato sat next to him. Save for a few hums, Minato was quiet; Akira could hear the sound of his breathing, and it was honestly endearing to him the way Minato seemed determined not to disturb his nap.

Minato was easily fooled by the ruse. He was aware, after all, that Akira worked hard. He aware more than aware of the expectations that were being placed on him by everyone—both of them had the future weight of the world on their shoulders. And while Minato absolutely loathed the fact that Akira was being forced into that life, he knew was powerless to stop the wheels from turning; they had begun before the two of them were even born. Generations of Arisatos and Kurusus lived their lives as royal figureheads and retainers, and they were merely puppets born into their roles.

So the very least that Minato could do, he believed, was give Akira some peace. His gaze settled on Akira’s face for a moment, and while Akira looked comfortable, catlike in appearance, he couldn’t help but frown at what he was able to see. He could see the exhaustion in his features, and he could see the bruises that had undoubtedly come about from his training. He reached out, ready to brush some of that disheveled hair from Akira’s face to get a better look, but drew back after a moment. He thought better of it, fearing that he might disturb that brief moment of reprieve. Instead, he shifted his gaze away and focused his attention on the flowers.

 

_ Snap. Snap. Snap. _

 

Akira could hear the sound of Minato picking the flowers. Seven or eight seemed to be the number. And the sounds that followed were quiet; most would not even think to pick out that sound as anything of value. But Akira knew that Minato was most likely making a flower crown. It seemed to be what Minato liked to do idly in the garden. And that in itself? It was endearing.

He could remember as a child that his mother had taught him how to make flower crowns. Akira thought back to it, that he must have been four or five, before he had a true understanding of his duties as a retainer and having wanted to have a crown just like Minato did. In turn, after she showed him how to make a crown of flowers, Akira showed Minato—albeit in a much sloppier manner. He’d placed it atop Minato’s head and proclaimed that they matched, so they both could be kings together.

Akira could hardly hold back the faint smile at the thought. Even then, so young, he had been hopeful and maybe a bit naïve that the gap could be closed so easily. And while it wasn’t really possible, it didn’t stop Minato from making him a great many flower crowns through the year that they played and relaxed in the garden together.  Maybe by the age of fifteen, they should have grown up—but all the same, holding onto these little fragments of youth kept them from feeling as if their differing roles would somehow separate them one day, as their parents wished for them.

It was unceremonious, the way Akira suddenly felt the ring of flowers fall directly onto his face just a few minutes later.

“You could have told me you were awake instead of pretending to still be asleep. Dumbass.”

Akira popped one eye open, smirk having spread on his lips into a mischievous grin. He knew the jig was up; it was obvious that somewhere along the way, while caught in thoughts and memories, that his expression must have changed and given away that he wasn’t quite asleep. There was no use in hiding it, so he allowed his eyes to open fully, though he squinted and practically closed them again to shield them from the sun. “I was hoping I’d get a fairy tale wake-up call.”

Minato responded with a snort; it was wholly unsurprising to him that Akira would give him such a cheeky response. He shifted to pull himself over Akira—both to get a better look at his bruises as well as to shield Akira’s eyes from the sunlight. “Sorry, I don’t remember my princess being so battered and bruised.”

The words came out with amused snark, but there was concerned riddled in his voice. He shifted the flower crown completely away from  Akira’s face, and finally brushed away the hair he’d neglected to earlier. And while he brushed away hair, Akira brushed off the concern. “I missed a dodge and took an elbow the cheek. No big deal.”

Akira reached for the flower crown, taking it into his left hand and placing it atop Minato’s head. He neglected to speak of the injury to his wrist, though the fact he used his left hand gave himself away.

“Has your dad told you that you suck at subtlety? No… probably just that even if you break a bone, it’s not a big deal as long as you’re keeping me safe.”

The disdain in Minato’s tone was palpable, and it was exactly why Akira hadn’t wanted him to realize he sustained any other injuries. Akira sighed and reached up to gently cup Minato’s cheek with his injured hand.

“It’s just a sprain, it’ll be fine in a day or two. You worry too much.”

_Of course._   Akira did always brush off those injuries like they were nothing, and he always insisted that Minato shouldn’t worry. And of course, Minato always  _ did _ worry. He leaned forward and allowed his forehead to rest against Akira’s.  “Maybe it’s just that you’re a dumbass.”

An airy chuckle escaped Akira’s throat, and rather than argue it, he pressed his lips gently to Minato’s.

“Maybe it’s just the best way to steal a kiss.” And that was something Akira could never really turn down, given the opportunity. He knew, after all, that these moments would be fleeting. He knew that regardless of what they wanted, or how much they enjoyed each other’s company in this quiet, subdued way—laced with something so honest and pure—it wasn’t meant to last. Even if they both floated crazy ideas like running away together, or refusing tradition, it was only a matter of time. As far as they were concerned, their parents would eventually choose wives for them to carry their bloodlines, and their warm trysts would eventually have to end. These moments were fleeting and so important, and with no way to truly bottle them, Akira knew they couldn’t take it for granted.

“You faked a nap to steal a kiss? You could have just asked for one.”  _ Dumbass, _ Minato refrained from saying once more.

“But then how would I know if you meant it?”

Akira was just teasing him, of course, but he always seemed to know just the right thing to say in order to draw a reaction from Minato. The young prince sighed, heaving the breath dramatically before he cupped both of Akira’s cheeks in his hands and kissed him with a warm intensity that signaled how much he meant it. Akira melted slightly into that kiss, but Minato broke it before he allowed it to intensify any further.

“…Go wash up and meet me in my room.”

Akira’s brow arched—his statement was vague and a bit provocative. He wasn’t sure was Minato was implying, though Minato knew immediately what Akira was thinking; the smirk growing on his lips couldn’t hide it, after all.

“I’ll have an ice pack for that bruise. Don’t even think about anything else until some of those injuries heal up.”

Minato knew, though, for as firm as he could be, he was weak to Akira. Inevitably, it wouldn’t  _ just _ be tending to injuries. Inevitably, he would cave to what they both were thinking… but that was a problem for later. Or at the very least, Minato would consider it such as he pulled himself off of Akira and held out a hand so they could get out of the sun before it set. It would likely be a long night—so Akira’s conservation of energy by way of cat nap would almost certainly benefit him once night fell completely. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little fluffy gift for my RRAU partner in crime, [NemiruTami](twitter.com/nemirutami), because sometimes even we just need these two not totally suffering. ♥


End file.
